


Beyond the Bricks

by astraplain



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraplain/pseuds/astraplain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt’s loft renovation project yields unexpected results</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I told you kid,” Stanley Winslow pushed the carefully rendered floor plan back at Kurt, “you could find the freakin’ Mona Lisa in that old storage room, I don’t want to hear about it.” He stood up, towering over Kurt for a moment to add, “Just remember, any damage comes out of your security deposit.”

“So we have your permission for everything? Expanding the bathroom and opening a doorway to the storage room?”

“I said it, didn’t I? Now I got things to do.” Stanley started for the door, anxious to leave before another tenant stopped him. He was halfway down the stairs before he yelled, “Tell Burt he owes me a couple o’ beers next time he’s in town.”

“I will,” Kurt called down, waiting until his landlord was out of sight before closing the loft door and letting out a triumphant, “Yes!”

‘We’re go’

When the text was sent, Kurt all but ran into his bedroom and changed into work clothes. He’d already moved his belongings out of the way, covered the furniture with drop cloths and laid out the tools they might need. He’d even drawn an outline on the bricks marking where the new door would be.

Too impatient to wait for Adam to arrive, Kurt picked up the steel lintel needed to support the remaining bricks once the opening was made. He’d borrowed a drill and other tools from his dad and bought the masonry drill bit and an extra hammer and chisel.

Selecting the playlist he’d made earlier in the week, Kurt but on his safety goggles his father had insisted he wear, and went to work.

+++++

“You started without me?” Adam fake pouted for as long as it took Kurt to lean in for a kiss. Adam wrapped his arms around Kurt pulling him close and ignoring the fine layer of dust that covered Kurt’s clothing, including the baseball cap he was wearing backwards to protect his hair.

“The two of us couldn’t work on the lintel anyway,” Kurt pointed out, resting against Adam. He loved the solid warmth of Adam’s body and of his presence. Whenever Adam was around the loft felt more cozy. Kurt couldn’t wait for this project to be finished so Adam could finally move in.

“At least let me have a turn with the saw?” Adam asked, his eyes extra bright. He’d been very excited about this project since Kurt mentioned the old storage space that had been left empty for so long.

“Of course. My arms need a break.”

“As long as they’re not too tired to lift a sandwich?” Adam freed himself from Kurt’s embrace so he could reveal the picnic he’d brought - sandwiches, carrot sticks, grapes, and a selection of cookies.

“You’re a life saver. I’m starved.” Kurt looked down at himself and frowned. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll eat.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure there’s nothing else to cut?” Adam shouted, his and Kurt’s ears still ringing from the sound of sawing through bricks.

“Sorry. You can use the drill if you want?” Kurt offered the mortar drill only to have Adam reach for the hammer instead.

“You loosen the mortar. I’ll take care of the bricks.” He flexed his biceps and posed, knowing Kurt would enjoy the view.

“Stop distracting me,” Kurt chided with a laugh, even though he didn’t take his eyes off Adam’s arms.

“It’s only fair with how often you distract me,” Adam replied, shifting to strike another pose before getting back to work. They’d been working steadily all afternoon and, although it was going well, these kinds of projects always took longer than planned.

“Let’s take out a section at a time.” Kurt drilled through the mortar around the top five rows of bricks, then stood back to let Adam use the hammer to knock them out. They tumbled into the empty storage space with an odd thunk that had Adam and Kurt sharing a confused look.

“You’re sure this storage room is empty?” Adam asked, peering through the hole he’d just made.

“Actually, Mr Winslow just said it hasn’t been used. Apparently it was blocked off when the building was converted to apartments. He only remembered it was there when I asked about the measurements.” Kurt and his former roommates had been there for two years without realizing there was a room on the other side of their east wall. It was only when Kurt was planning his renovation project that he realized their loft space was shorter than it should have been.

“I thought this building was converted in the fifties. I didn’t realize Mr Winslow was that old. I thought he was closer to your dad’s age.”

“He’s a few years older but the two of them became instant friends, bonding over sports and beer.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Adam took the flashlight he’d retrieved from a nearby shelf and shone it into the space beyond.

“Only when they want to do their bonding here.” Kurt pressed close, “What do you see?”

“Looks like shelves or furniture. I can’t quite tell with all the dust and cobwebs.” Adam pulled back and let Kurt take a look.

“Too hard to see,” Kurt agreed. “Let’s finish the door.”

Adam set the flashlight aside while Kurt used the drill. He also retrieved the broom, a duster and some rags.

Your turn.“ Kurt gave Adam’s arm a light squeeze and laughed at Adam’s expression. "I should make a calendar, you posing with a different tool each month.”

“Only if I get one of you posing in return,” Adam bargained.

“You know… now that Santana and Rachel are gone…” Kurt’s pitched his voice low and sensual.

“Sorry, darling, I’m not posing nude with tools. You might be able to pull that off but I’d just look ridiculous.”

“You don’t know until you try,” Kurt wheedled, letting his voice caress Adam while his hands couldn’t. Adam gave the hammer one last swing and the last of the midsection of bricks fell away revealing definite outlines in the gloom beyond.

“What kind of factory was this?” Adam asked, frowning at the object several feet beyond the wall. “That looks like an old sewing machine.”

“It does,” Kurt confirmed. “I think it was a toy factory, but it was closed years before Mr Winslow’s father bought the building.”

“It’s strange that they would leave equipment behind.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” Kurt set to work drilling the last section of bricks and Adam stood back to enjoy the show. As much as he loved seeing Kurt all dressed up, Adam preferred these private moments when Kurt’s attention was on a project and not on his attire. Very few people got to see Kurt like this.

“All done.” Kurt stood and set the drill aside. “Ready Mr Biceps?”

“Always,” Adam flexed, putting on a bit of show as he knelt to his task. In minutes the last of the bricks were down and the space beyond was revealed in all it’s cobwebbed glory.


	3. Chapter 3

“Careful. There’s something–” Adam caught Kurt’s arm lightly and moved his flashlight to show the splintered board Kurt had almost put his hand on.

“I see it.” Kurt backed up and ran his light over the space again. “We’d better use gloves.”

“Good idea,” Adam agreed, accepting the work gloves Kurt offered. Adam had plans for this evening and a hand full of splinters wouldn’t definitely interfere.

“I think we killed a shelf,” Kurt announced after pulling two grimy broken boards out of the newly opened space. He set them aside and knelt down to pick up the bricks they’d knocked down.

The flashlight beam revealed a narrow bed and washstand along with the sewing machine. There were also shelves, besides the ones they’d broken, holding an intriguing assortment of boxes and oddments.

“Could it have been a sick room in case anyone was injured?” Adam wondered.

“A live in security guard?” Kurt countered.

“Somewhere for the owner to stay in an emergency?” Adam suggested in return.

“It’s small. Wouldn’t the owner want something nicer?” Kurt shoved the last of the bricks to the side and stood up, pushing back a stray hair with the back of his gloved hand.

“Do you have a longer extension cord?” Adam asked, picking up the utility light Kurt had set near the opening. “This is brighter than the flashlights.”

“I’ll get one.” Kurt found the 100-foot cord that he used for vacuuming the loft.

“Much easier,” Adam held the light high and waited for Kurt to enter the room first. There were a few bricks that had fallen a distance from the new door and Kurt kicked them to the side clearing the path for Adam to follow.

“Other than the dirt and cobwebs, it looks like someone just left.” Adam found a light switch and pressed it, flinching when the overhead light flared then abruptly went out. “I’m surprised that worked at all,” Adam said, peering up at the square glass fixture over the burned out bulbs. “We’ll need a stepladder to fix that.”

“Later,” Kurt tugged Adam’s arm with excitement. We have enough light for now. Let’s explore.“

The narrow bed was made with yellowed linens and a thick patchwork quilt. The pillow was flat but the pillowcase had a colorful patchwork border to match the quilt. A boldly colored landscape hung over the bed at an angle.

"Considering no one has been in here for years, it’s not in too bad a condition.” Adam reached out to straighten the picture, moving with extra care in case it should fall. When it was level he moved back slowly and smiled. “That’s better.”

“Look at this!” Kurt had moved on to the washstand and was rifling through the contents of the top drawer. He had set a book on the chipped basin and was piling loose pages on top as he found them. “They’re sketches - landscapes and such, but also clothes.” Kurt was fairly vibrating with the excitement of his discovery so Adam leaned over to look and to give Kurt a peck on the cheek.

“Let’s see what these shelves hold.” Adam took the far corner diagonally across from the bed and started checking boxes. There were more papers and books, but there were also bits of fabric, buttons and trimming, and large spools of thread.

“I wonder if these are any good?” Kurt reached over to pick up one of the spools. He unspooled a length of thread and tugged it several times, grinning when it didn’t break. He set if back down and tested a few more before deciding the whole batch was usable.

“Kurt…” Adam peered into an ornate gift box, angling it for Kurt to get a look at the two dolls inside. They were dressed elegantly, a slender-bodied boy doll in a Victorian frock coat and the more curvaceous girl doll in a gown of lavender silk lavishly trimmed in lace. There was a gift card inside that read: To Grace from Percival. I kept my promise.

“Grace or Percival.” Kurt tilted his head back, taking in as much of the room as he could before calling out. “Were one of you our artist?”

Beyond the wall, the music switched to an instrumental piece; the quiet notes of the strings sounded like whispers.


	4. Chapter 4

Adam woke to the pale light of early dawn. The empty space where Kurt should be wasn’t a complete surprise - Kurt’s insomnia was a frequent occurrence as was his inability to resist a puzzle.

Stretching, Adam allowed himself five minutes before getting up and slipping on the previous day’s clothes and shoes. Normally he went barefoot, but he wasn’t risking that in the newly discovered room. Detouring past the kitchen, Adam poured himself a coffee and refilled Kurt’s empty mug. Dirty dishes from the previous evening’s pizza were still in the sink and Adam set the coffee aside long enough to load the dishwasher, feeling a sense of accomplishment for having distracted Kurt so thoroughly.

Shared showers were almost too easy a distraction for Kurt. If they ever managed to find an inexpensive claw-foot bathtub… the challenge would be in getting Kurt out of the water. Adam’s own not so little mermaid.

Of course there were other very pleasurable distractions, and they’d enjoyed several of those last night too. Before drifting off, they’d held each other and talked, their words spoken quietly, just little puffs of air ghosting across skin. Adam loved all of his moments with Kurt but if he had to choose, it would be this quiet intimacy. He’d never experienced that before meeting Kurt, and it was one of Adam’s most cherished firsts.

“Hey,” Kurt bounced over, dust-flecked and eager for so early in the morning. He accepted the coffee Adam offered and took one sip before pressing coffee-warmed lips to Adam’s.

“Want to see what I found?”

“I do,” Adam took one last sip of coffee and set it down, ready to share Kurt’s discovery.

“Careful. The bricks.” Kurt took Adam’s hand and guided him around the stacks of bricks beside the new doorway and over to the bed. An old brown suitcase was open on the bed, its contents spread across the quilt. There were clothes and sundries, but there were also books - journals splayed open to reveal tight, neat script and tiny sketches. Bits of paper stuck out from between some of the pages.

“I was cleaning the shelves and dropped some buttons. When I bent down to pick them up, I noticed this suitcase under the bed.”

“Have you read these?” Adam asked as he picked up the nearest of four journals.

“Just a few pages,” Kurt confessed before quickly adding, “I think we should read them together.”

“I’d like that,” Adam said with an easy smile. “Can they wait a bit? We should check the rest of the boxes to see if there are any more.”

“Read them in chronological order,” Kurt added, nodding in agreement.

“You’ve been busy,” Adam commented, taking in the changes from last night when most of the room was layered with dust. “Have you been up long.”

“A couple of hours.” Kurt touched Adam’s face, a silent apology for making him worry. “We can take a nap later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Adam faked a huge yawn, only to follow it with a real one. Kurt laughed and leaned in to kiss him.

“Poor man, dragged from your bed so early. Let’s check the rest of these boxes and we can make some breakfast.”

“Cinnamon rolls?” Adam put on his best wide-eyed pleading look. It was a cheap tactic and Kurt always laughed when Adam used it, but then he’d give Adam a kiss and, more often than not, make whatever Adam had requested.

“With extra icing,” Kurt teased, turning and putting a little wiggle in his walk as he moved to the shelves. Adam trailed, taking his time to enjoy the view before claiming one of the many boxes that were left.

Most of the remaining boxes were file box sized or smaller and needed only a quick survey of the contents, but there were larger boxes on the lower shelves, still unexplored. By mutual consent, they left those boxes for last.

“More trim and fabric,” Adam announced as he set another box back on the shelf. Adam labeled it with the marker Kurt had provided and reached for the next in line only to pause when Kurt spoke.

“Look at this.” Kurt set the largest of the file boxes down on the floor and knelt beside it. “Playbills.”

“The whole box?” Adam asked, his voice rising in excitement.

“I don’t know. It’s heavy.” Kurt looked around. He’d done a cursory sweep and dust but the room was far from clean. “Let’s take this to the table.”

“Allow me,” Adam swooped in and hefted the box, letting Kurt watch as he carried it to the other room. “Would you put down papers so we don’t get dust everywhere?”

“I’ve got old towels,” Kurt offered, hurrying to retrieve them and cover the table. Adam set the box down at one end and stepped back to let Kurt have the honor of revealing his discovery.

“Don’t make me do all the work,” Kurt teased as he set out the first stack of playbills, lingering over the ones that caught his attention.

“Kurt.” Adam’s excitement made Kurt abandon the playbill he was browsing and join him, peering into the box. “Posters–”

“Photos.” Kurt said, a little breathless as he dove into the box for more and came up holding treasure for Adam to see.

“Are those autographed?” Adam sounded a little winded himself as he stared at the glorious array. He was almost afraid to see what they’d unearth next.


	5. Chapter 5

“We should eat,” Kurt turned away from the shelves and the box he’d just labeled. After the discovery of the theater memorabilia, they’d returned to the room only to have the next half-dozen boxes reveal more sewing notions. There were more unopened boxes, but the excitement was giving way to hunger and fatigue.

“Cereal or toast is fine,” Adam offered, although he usually preferred to start the day with a larger meal. “I’ll do coffee.”

“I promised cinnamon rolls,” Kurt reminded him with a distracted smile.

“Rain check? Something light now and we’ll finish the boxes, maybe give the room another round of the duster and broom before showers and a nap.” Adam slid his arms around Kurt’s waist and pulled him close. “I think we could splurge for a big meal after, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kurt leaned his head against Adam’s chest, closing his eyes for just a moment. He’d had very little sleep after a long week and it felt good just to be held.

“Come on, then. Toast or that rooster cereal you like?” Adam pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “We’ve still got some of that honey we bought at the market.” Adam liked honey and butter on his morning toast and Kurt had picked up the habit.

“Toast,” Kurt murmured into Adam’s chest. He inhaled deeply, then stepped back, giving Adam a kiss before setting himself in motion.

The toaster was Kurt’s responsibility while Adam made the coffee. They’d never discussed it, they’d just fallen into a pattern that became one of the little joys in their relationship.

“I wonder what they were like, Percival and Grace?” Kurt sat sideways on the sofa, his legs resting against Adam’s, who was seated at the other end licking the honey off his toast. He’d cut them into strips that he called dancers rather than soldiers. Kurt wondered if that was a nod to Adam’s love of the arts, or a small protest against Adam’s years in Cassie July’s dance classes. 

“Well, one of them loved Broadway.” Adam tilted his head toward the old storage room. “Percival must have lived here for a while. The odd bits of fabric and trim were probably leftovers that he or Grace saved.”

“It was a toy factory so they would have made dolls and doll clothes. Maybe outfits for stuffed animals too.” Kurt leaned over to set his unfinished toast aside, hiding his smile as Adam used his right index finger to wipe the last trace of honey from his plate. “Like the pair of dolls from Percival to Grace.”

“I wonder what he meant: ‘I kept my promise’?” Adam frowned at his empty plate and set it on the coffee table. He leaned back for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. In a burst of movement he sat up and levered himself off the sofa. “Let’s go finish those boxes.”

“Not yet,” Kurt said as he rose with less speed but more grace. He reached out and took Adam’s hands, lifting the right hand to his mouth and pulling the index finger into his mouth. Sucking the finger lightly, he looked up through lowered lashes and smiled. Slowly he slid the finger free and gave the sensitive fingertip a kiss. “Wash your hands first.”

Adam growled at Kurt’s grin and stalked off to do as he was told.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Here's the rest in one long chapter.

“Now what?” Kurt asked as he slumped onto the sofa and let his head drop back to rest on the cushions. They’d examined the contents of the remaining boxes and found more questions than answers.

“Now we do some research,” Adam sat next to Kurt and pulled Kurt against him. Now that the initial excitement was over, a sense of melancholy had taken over. Unlike the box of theater memorabilia, the surprises they’d found in some of the large boxes had been less pleasant. 

First were the dolls, cloth and porcelain creations painstakingly crafted into likenesses of some of Broadway’s brightest stars, complete with replicas of their costumes. 

Second were the play scripts, some handwritten, some typed, and all credited to Percival Grace. There were a few songs, too, handwritten in pencil with many spots worn thin from repeated erasing. 

Finally, there was the box containing trinkets and jewelry and a few items of clothing, most likely belonging to a lovely young brunette pictured in photos and named in playbills and newspaper articles contained in a large scrapbook. Also in the box was a newspaper, turned to the obituaries.

“Grace Norton, orphaned as a young teenager along with her older brother Percival, enjoyed modest success on Broadway. She goes to Hollywood to audition for a movie, falls in love and gets engaged. A month before her wedding, she and her fiance are killed in a car accident. But what happened to Percival?” Kurt turned pleading eyes to Adam. They both wanted a happy ending for the young man who’d lived in a tiny room hidden away in an abandoned toy factory.

“His life wasn’t always sad,” Adam reminded Kurt. “You saw the playbills and autographs. They meant enough to him that he made those dolls.” They’d considered the possibility that Grace had made the dolls, but the handiwork was the same as the dolls Percival had made for Grace.

“True,” Kurt’s mood lifted a bit. The dolls he recognized were good likenesses of the actors even though he didn’t recognize some of the costumes. Adam had better knowledge of late 1940s early 1950s Broadway but even he hadn’t been able to identify all the plays that were represented.

“It was a difficult time, after the war. Broadway was losing their audience to television, and there was a wave of conservative thinking that discouraged anything considered subversive,” Adam pointed out. Kurt hadn’t taken the History of Broadway Theater class yet. 

“I wonder if that’s why those dolls were never delivered? If Percival was the one who made them…” Kurt trailed off, thinking how much work had gone into each of those dolls, only for them to end up in a box in a walled off room.

“It might have been seen as odd, a young man, probably not married, making dolls. From what I read, there was a lot of pressure for people to behave in ways that were considered acceptable.” Adam took a deep breath before adding, “We know a little of what that’s like.”

“Do you think he was gay?” Kurt asked, finally voicing the thought he’d had since discovering the room.

“I don’t know. Maybe we’d like to think he was because we’d like to have some understanding of the man who lived here.” Adam picked up Kurt’s hand and held it, lacing their fingers together. “Maybe he only seems lonely because we’re only seeing parts of his life that were left behind. There has to be a reason these things are still here.”

“So, research?” Kurt smiled up at Adam, who nodded and kissed Kurt’s forehead.

“Nap first?” Adam suggested, knowing that once Kurt started after information, he’d be hard to stop.

“Definitely,” Kurt agreed, barely suppressing a yawn. “And then a trip to the Library for the Performing Arts?”

“Only if we stop somewhere to eat first, and possibly after,” Adam teased.

“Agreed, as long as one of those stops involves pizza.”

“Do you even need to ask?” Adam laughed. The melancholy had lifted and he let himself rest for a moment, weary but content.

+++++

“We should do this more often,” Kurt said as he leaned back against a bright red booth in their favorite pizza place. He and Adam had spent almost three hours at the library, leaving just before the final closing announcement.

“The library or the pizza?” Adam asked, taking another bite of cheesy deliciousness. He loved that Kurt, for all his salads and grilled chicken, took pleasure in foods that would make some of the stricter NYADA students clutch their carrot sticks in horror. 

“Both,” Kurt declared before snagging another slice of pepperoni and extra cheese. “It was nice not having a research deadline for a change.”

“True, although it would be easy to get lost there without a specific topic to research.”

“We should try it anyway,” Kurt suggested, a hint of challenge in his smile. 

Adam laughed and nodded. “Save it for the next heat wave?”

“Good idea.” Kurt took a bite and chewed, his eyes going distant. Adam settled back against the seat, content to wait. He was rewarded a moment later when Kurt pushed his plate to the side and leaned forward. “Ready to share?”

“Go.” Adam slapped his notes down on the table just before Kurt produced his. They laughed and Kurt clapped while Adam declared himself the winner.

“Grace Norton was in eight plays between 1945 and 1950. The first five were minor or supporting roles, but the last three were major parts or second leads. She stayed with most productions three to six months, except the last, which she left after only two months.” 

“To go to Hollywood.” Kurt nodded. “That’s where I started. I couldn’t find the name of the movie she had auditioned for, but I did find an article about the car accident. I also looked up her fiance, Laurence Abel. He did a number of small and supporting parts before landing a major role in an unnamed epic.” Kurt turned the page and tapped it for a moment while he reviewed the information before continuing. “It’s not definite, but there were a few articles that suggested that unnamed major epic fell through after Grace and Laurence died.” Kurt closed his notebook and leaned back. “There were a few reviews of Laurence’s other films, but nothing useful.”

“We’re lucky to find anything,” Adam reminded Kurt gently before holding up his notebook and tapping it. “There is one other thing… I tried variations of Grace and Percival’s names and found a few items of interest. A Percival Grace worked as a wardrobe assistant for several plays in the late forties. And…” Adam drew out the word, playing up the drama until Kurt laughed and motioned for him to get on with with it. “Norton P. Grace was a staff writer for a variety of television shows from the fifties to the mid seventies.”

“Could be coincidence,” Kurt pointed out, but it was clear he wanted them both to be their Percival Norton. 

“It could, but it’s worth doing a bit more research. Still doesn’t explain why his things are in a walled up storage room in what was an abandoned toy factory.” 

“We haven’t read the journals yet,” Kurt pointed out, picking up his half-eaten pizza slice and gesturing with it. “Someone wanted an afternoon out and lots of junk food.”

“An enjoyable afternoon out and delicious food,” Adam corrected, leaning over and taking a bite of Kurt’s pizza slice. He leaned back, looking very satisfied with himself while Kurt laughed and leaned over to wipe a stray bit of sauce from Adam’s chin.

+++++

“Cooper says we owe him sushi and beer,” Adam reported. He set his phone on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa beside Kurt.

“Is that all?” Kurt prompted, knowing from Adam’s grin that there had to be more.

“Apparently,” Adam drew out the word, delighting in Kurt’s barely contained impatience. “Cooper’s agent’s former business partner’s uncle used to work for Norton Grace back in the sixties.”

“Scriptwriter?” Kurt guessed.

“Gardener,” Adam corrected. “Norton was very particular about his azaleas.” 

“Oh,” Kurt said, disappointed to have one more lead turn into a dead end.

“Cooper went to see him. His name’s Martin. He remembered Norton and his "roommate” Douglas - Cooper acted out the quotes by the way - Martin said they were together until Norton died in the late eighties. Douglas lived another eight months. Neither man had any family left so most of their money, including that from the sale of their house went to charity, but they did leave Martin a little something.“

"So that’s it,” Kurt leaned against Adam and sighed. It wasn’t an unhappy ending; Percival had been successful and he’d found someone to share his life, but it still felt like a loss.

“Martin had some photos. He let Cooper borrow them to make copies for us.” Adam smiled softly as Kurt brightened. “He also said that there was something funny about the will. He had to be there for the reading since he was a beneficiary and he remembers there being something about a trust held for a key holder. He didn’t remember the details, but he did find the lawyer’s card. Cooper’s going to call them on Monday.”

“Key holder.” Kurt turned toward the space that had once been Percival’s room. “We didn’t find any keys…”

“Want to look again?” Adam asked, standing before Kurt could answer.

“I’ll check the washstand, do you want to check the suitcase?”

While they worked, Kurt thought about the journals they’d read. They’d been full of snippets of songs and dialog and sketches for costumes. They scripts they’d found were all things Percival had written. There had been very little personal information but perhaps it was there in the words of his characters. Kurt stopped for a moment, the washstand drawer half emptied.

“Adam?” The ghost of an idea was forming.

“Yes?” Adam stopped searching, giving Kurt his full attention.

“Percival was sixteen when his parents died and he came here to work at the toy factory while Grace lived with the factory owner’s family.”

“Yes,” Adam said slowly, his eyes widening as he realized where Kurt’s thoughts were leading.

“They wouldn’t have had much after their parents died. Why else would Percival end up living in storage room in an old factory even after it closed?” Kurt looked around the room, frowning as he tried to puzzle it all out. Was there some importance to the key, and to the fact that Percival had apparently left everything behind.

“Grace wouldn’t have made much, working in plays, but it might have been enough for an apartment, especially if she had a roommate or ten.” Adam made an exaggerated grimace at the revolving door nature of his own apartment and the never ending parade of Apples. Despite his protests, he actually enjoyed it most of the time.

“Grace gives her brother tickets to plays and introduces him to the actors. Percival makes the dolls to thank them?” Kurt frowned, thinking hard, then shook his head. “No, he made them for Grace. That’s why they were never delivered.” Kurt turned suddenly. “The key wouldn’t be with his things, they’d be with Grace’s!”

Kurt’s hands were shaking with excitement as he carried the gift box to the bed and set it down gently. He lifted the lid and stared down at the two dolls. They hadn’t looked at them since the initial discovery but here, in better light and with more understanding, they were beautiful. Kurt lifted the Grace doll in lavender silk and examined it for a hidden key. After a long moment he set her aside, having found nothing.

“Percival,” Adam realized. “The key was from him to Grace, so the key would be with this doll.” Adam picked it up and examined the male doll in a frock coat. “It wasn’t meant to be her fiance, it was meant to be Percival. Adam turned the doll over, letting out a little cry when he felt a bit of resistance along the back. He undid the seed pearl buttons and removed the coat, finding a pocket sewn into the coat’s lining.

"It’s small,” Kurt said with a frown. The key looked like to belonged to a jewelry box or small chest.

“It could be a safety deposit box?” Adam suggested.

“Possibly,” Kurt said, casting another look around the room, “But let’s look for a small box just in case.”

+++++

“Ready?” Adam asked, taking Kurt’s hand and tugging it to make Kurt turn to face him.

“I am,” Kurt said, nodding with certainty. It was electrified chaos around them, but for a moment they were alone. “Are you?”

“More than ready,” Adam confirmed, giving Kurt’s hand a gentle squueze. “You look gorgeous.”

“So do you,” Kurt leaned in and gave Adam a light kiss. There wasn’t time for anything more as the activity moved their way.

“Save that for later,” Cassie July hissed, gesturing for them to take their places.

“You hired her,” Adam said in an undertone just before letting Kurt go.

“She volunteered,” Kurt reminded him. “Like we all did.”

“Everyone we know is crazy,” Adam declared as he straightened his coat and struck his opening pose.

“Yes, we are,” Kurt agreed, proceeding to his spot in front. He’d be front and center when the curtains opened.

The murmur of the crowd was much louder here and it was all Kurt could do to keep from looking back at Adam. Instead, he bounced on his toes just a little before taking a calming breath.

After all these months: discovering the room, and eventually finding the little box hidden in a drawer under the sewing machine. The key they’d found had unlocked it revealing a lawyer’s business card with a bank account number on the back and sent them on a chase of another kind. In the end it taken less than an hour to become millionaires.

Norton Grace, aka Percival Norton had started a trust in his sister Grace’s name as soon as he started working in the toy factory. Every month he’d added to it until the month he died. Even when he barely had enough for himself, he deposited something, The factory owner had been a friend of the family and had helped Percival start the trust. When the factory closed, he let Percival continue to live there, rent free, until the day before Grace’s funeral. That’s when Percival sent him a thank you note and followed his sister’s path to California.

Seventy years later, the songs and scripts and costume designs Percival had left behind finally had an audience.

+++++

“No more than half goes to charity. The rest is yours.” Selina Forbes had tapped her pen against the documents on her desk. “Mr. Norton was very clear that he wanted whoever found his key to enjoy some of what he worked so hard for. He had no other family.” She had pushed her glasses up in a seemingly unconscious habit and peered at Kurt and Adam until they agreed to the terms, keeping their share of the nearly four million dollars.

“Two for us and our families,” Adam had said later when they were sitting in their favorite coffee shop, still feeling overwhelmed. “I think I know what we could do with some of the rest.”

“Tell me,” Kurt urged, leaning forward so he wouldn’t miss a word in the noisy shop.

“We’ve a treasure trove of costumes, songs and plays that never had an audience. What do you think of a charity event showcasing of some of Percival’s work performed by a cast of unknowns?”

“A series,” Kurt countered, excitement making him sit up straighter. “Workshops on acting. Stagecraft.”

“Writing,” Adam added.

“Ending with a show to raise money for… what?” Kurt floundered.

“A scholarship!” Adam nearly upset his tea in his excitement but Kurt caught it in time and set it aside so he could reach across the table and hold Adam’s hands.

“You’re brilliant. Yes. The Percival and Grace Norton Scholarship for the Performing Arts,” Kurt held up his arms and did jazz hands.

“Writing, acting or general?” Adam wondered.

“Depends on the money we raise.” Kurt was smiling so widely that Adam couldn’t resist the urge to lean in for a quick kiss.

“Maybe several smaller ones rather than the whole pot to one person. It could make a difference to a lot of people.”

“It could,” Kurt agreed, brimming with ideas. He could see the same excitement reflected back at him from Adam’s bright eyes. “Ready to go home?”

“Let’s,” Adam agreed. “Where better to plan Percival’s scholarship?”

+++++

It hadn’t been easy - not establishing the scholarship, not culling Percival’s writings and designs for a coherent show, not gathering the right group for staging the charity event. Finally, moments away from starting, surrounded by ridiculously talented and generous people, it was clear that it had been worth every single minute.

Percival Norton, a man who had loved his sister enough to walk away from his beloved Broadway, was about to receive his long overdue recognition. His dolls and theater memorabilia were on exhibit in the lobby, waiting for a permanent home, and his tiny apartment in an abandoned storage room had received a partial makeover, with Kurt using some of the space as intended but the bed, washstand and sewing machine remaining as they were.

As he said from the start, Kurt’s landlord has refused any payment, but he did decide to keep Kurt’s security deposit. He’d also hinted that he wouldn’t refuse a couple of cases of beer - a fee Burt insisted on paying.

Beyond the curtain, the music swelled. Kurt stood, his profile soft in the dim light. There was just the slightest hint of resemblance with their patron and Adam thought it fitting that he was at the front, taking the lead.

“This is for you, Percival,” Adam whispered, his face upturned. “Let’s give them a good show.”

::end::


End file.
